Chronicles of the Ancients I: Origo Necis
by Basilisk9466
Summary: Prequel to the Hades Chronicles. Two billion years before humanity would even evolve, a war took place. A war that would create the ultimate weapon... A weapon that may yet doom us all...


_Welcome to the Chronicles of the Ancients I: Origo Necis, the prequel to the Hades Chronicles. You can read this if you wish without reading the Hades Chronicles, but you'll spoil several surprises in the Hades Chronicles if you do… For those of you who have already done so, welcome back! I'm afraid that you won't see any of our old friends from Hades here, but a lot of blanks will be filled in. A word of warning, though; update rate will be slow, as I intend to focus on my other projects.  
_

* * *

The weapons flared again, and the black swarm was cut through in swathes. 

Still they came.

The leader of the remaining survivors flexed the claws built into his armour, and called encouragement to his beleaguered troops.

Lances of energy intermingled with the flashes of exploding projectiles, but still their nemesis approached. Two took the place of every one that was killed.

Fifty metres to the nearest one. It was shot down instantly, but the rest of the huge swarm were close behind.

"Fall back!" called the leader. He slowly backed up, energy pulsing from the two servo-controlled weapons in his tan war-armour.

"Warlord! We're surrounded!"

The Warlord spun quickly, and spotted another endless swarm of Corrupted charging towards them from the other side.

"And so it ends," he said bitterly. "The last free world in the Empire falls before Them. Fight to your last breath!"

Twenty metres on both sides to the Corrupted swarms. The soldiers fired even more rapidly, disregarding the normal precautions with their temperamental weapons. Dozens fell with every volley, but there seemed no end to the enemy.

And then the Corrupted fell on them. The razored claws of the soldiers tore into the Corrupted, but sheer numbers and the brute strength of the Corrupted ripped them apart.

The screams of his men echoed through the Warlord's mind, but there was no time to consider their fate. No time to do anything but fight...

The last yellow light on the display in his helmet winked out, and he knew that he was the last.

Not just the last member of those soldiers. Not just the last survivor on the entire planet. But maybe the last member of his species in the galaxy. In the universe.

The last Cytheran in existence.

The Corrupted abruptly backed away, leaving him in a small island in the sea of blackness. The creatures parted, and a huge figure casually stalked forward through the swarm of its minions.

The Warlord focused on the figure. "I hope you are satisfied, Dominata," he hissed.

The Old One laughed, the mental 'sound' strangely painful. _/Satisfied? Of course I am satisfied, High Warlord Le-ke-askal. Look around you. The Cytheran Empire was once the scourge of the galaxy. You even threatened _us_, the First! And now look. Defeated by a simple predator. A bit of a come-down. For all your technology and _morality it continued, rolling the word around like something unpleasant, _/you could not face my greatest creation./_

"You don't know what you have created here," Le-ke-askal replied. "The time will come when you will regret what you have let loose on the galaxy."

_/I doubt that. Observe./_

The Old One plucked a small item from its extensive armour, and pressed the button.

The Corrupted screamed in agony, slowly crumpling to the ground. The black sea writhed around them, and then fell into the stillness of death.

The Old One returned the device to its pocket in the armour. _/My... children... can never harm us. _I_ succeeded where our military failed. The power I have achieved is unimaginable – and think; it is all thanks to your kind! You have my gratitude for that. From here on, the great Ancient Kingdoms will sweep through the galaxy with these creatures as their weapons. None will stand before us./_

"Not even the most base Cytheran would take lives so callously, Dominata," Le-ke-askal replied, contempt dripping from his words.

_/I created them/_ the Dominata replied coolly. _/They are mine, and I will do with them what I wish./_

"Taking a small risk, aren't you?" the High Warlord responded. "Sure you can handle a Warlord with nothing to lose?"

The Old One laughed again. It was still laughing when the Corrupted that was programmed to die on a different signal to the others pummelled the Cytheran to the ground.

The last High Warlord of the Cythera died with that laughter in his mind, and the Xenomorph's teeth smashing through his skull.

_

* * *

In the beginning was nothingness._

_There was no time._

_No space._

_And then there were both._

_Our universe came into existence in an event that a small ape would one day call the Big Bang._

_Matter coalesced and energy was generated. The first stars came into existence._

_Time passed without measure. The first stars came to the end of their lives, and spread new elements into the universe. More stars formed, and a cycle was created that would last for the rest of time._

_As heavier elements formed, chunks of rock formed around the stars. Planets and moons came into being._

_For billions of years, time passed with nothing to count it. The universe was an empty place._

_And then, on a small world near the centre of a massive cluster of stars, a relatively simple chemical bonded together to form something new. The first chemical that recreated itself._

_DNA._

_Two billion years passed. DNA formed on other worlds, while the first evolved into ever more complex forms._

_And at the end of those two billion years, something new entered the universe._

_The first space-faring life._

_They left their own planet, left their solar system and found that they were not alone. They found another race, one that was in the infancy of its development._

_The older race saw potential in their younger neighbours. They offered them a deal – to serve their race in return for seeing the stars._

_The younger ones agreed, and gave their new masters a name that would resound through the ages._

_The Old Ones._

_The younger race called themselves 'Yautja'._

_The Old Ones and their Yautja servants explored the universe, finding little but bare rock._

_Until they encountered another race. One that rivalled the Old Ones in their knowledge._

_They called themselves 'Cythera'._

* * *

The _Jag'D'Ja Atoll_-class Yautja mothership cruised gently through the depths of space. Around it swarmed _Man'Daca_-class migratory corvettes and _Ner'Uda_-class fighter-shuttles. 

A second fleet of similar proportions moved several kilometres away to the left.

In between cruised a mighty Old One dreadnaught. Built in the shape of a lengthened sphere with eight massive arms spreading back from its mid-section, it dwarfed both Yautja fleets put together.

The behemoth's target was the small inhabited fourth planet of the system. Blocking its path were twenty Cytheran gunships – far smaller than the dreadnaughtor even a Yautja mothership, but heavily armed and extremely fast. A thin central cylinder branched off into four wings to create an aerodynamic, vicious construct.

The bridge of the dreadnaught was radically different to that of the Yautja, Cythera, or the small apes that would one day wander the stars. Five tall columns fed into the ceiling, each containing an apparently cocooned Old One. Each one served a specific purpose, and these five were the only Pilots on the entire warship. All other functions were controlled by robotic drones or Yautja slaves. Apart from the faint throbbing of the piping that ran along the interior, there was absolute silence.

_/What are the insectoid fools doing/_ demanded the Imperator – a rank equivalent to a human Admiral or Cytheran High Warlord. _/This is _our_ system! The accords state that clearly, they were to secede the system to our control/_

The dark, oddly ribbed structure on the front of the bridge flattened with a squelch, and a hologram of the Cytheran fleet spread itself over the surface.

_/Order them to withdraw immediately or face the consequences./_

The hologram reconfigured to show the Cytheran Warlord, an impressive figure in full war-armour. "Your threats are irrelevant, Old One," it replied. "The colonists in this system have decided to ignore the accords and remain. We Cythera are not in the habit of abandoning our kin. Until they are persuaded to leave, you are not permitted to enter the inner zones."

_/I care not for your excuses, Cytheran/_ replied the Imperator viciously. _/This system is ours, and was given to us unconditionally. You have broken those accords, and are subject to elimination./_

"Is that how Old One politics works, then?" said the Warlord, contempt dripping from the chittering words.

There was tense silence for a moment.

_/You are ordered to withdraw immediately/_ said the Imperator coldly. _/We give you three minutes to break your blockade of our territory, or be... removed./_

"Any aggressive action will be taken as a declaration of _war_, Imperator. Think carefully before you act, and know that we will not withdraw from our position while there are still Cythera on that colony."

_/So be it. Insect./_ The hologram dissolved and the wall regained its wrinkled appearance.

No further words were spoken. The crew of the dreadnaught had entered the war-dream, a state of interaction beyond mere words. With one mind, the warship cruised towards the Cytheran gunships. Energy hummed as it fed into the innumerable weapons.

The Yautja ships closed formation, their Old One-gifted plasma weapons charged and ready for the onslaught.

They were not to be disappointed. The gunships' engines blazed, and the Cytheran warships streaked towards their assailants. The central cylinders hummed, and a long spear of red light lanced from each gunship into the dreadnaught. The resinous plastic of its hull twisted and melted under the intense power of the weapons, but it seemed like a wasp sting against a crocodile.

The Yautja ships fired, plasma spitting against the gunships' hulls, but the Cytheran vessels were up to the challenge. The energy from the blasts coruscated across the tan hulls.

The dreadnaught fired.

Several hundred individual pulses streaked from the titanic ship. Many missed, but many more found their mark. Nine of the gunships were engulfed in flame as the incinerator cannons lived up to their name, the hulls igniting.

Again the gunships fired before breaking formation. Again the dreadnaught took the punishment without apparent effect. Yautja _Ner'uda_s swarmed over the Cytheran ships, plasma lances blazing. Smaller red beams spat at the fighters, but the sheer number began to tell. Another gunship broke apart as the superheated gas found a weak spot in the heat-resistant armour.

The dreadnaught fired again, and eight more of the gunships ignited. Two more remained.

The remaining Cythera spun in wide arcs, red beams flashing off them. Yautja ships blew apart as the high-power particle beams shredded the relatively weak armour.

The dreadnaught fired once more. The incinerators obliterated a swarm of _Ner'Uda_s, but the gunships evasive tactics saved them from their wingmen's fate.

They dived towards the behemoth again, and corkscrewed. The main beams fired, coring into the same spot. For the first time, the dreadnaught showed some damage; a rent appeared in its hull and flame jetted from it as the intense heat ignited the air within.

The manoeuvre took too long.

Almost gloatingly, the dreadnaught fired again. The gunships were reduced to flaming fragments that rattled harmlessly against its hull. The resinous material of the behemoth's hull flowed together, sealing the wound.

The war-dream ended, and the five Old Ones became separate again.

_/Inform the Yautja that we will begin landings on the fourth planet the moment we enter orbit/_ ordered the Imperator. _/Any Cythera that get in the way are to be treated as the insects that they are. There can be no challenge to the Ancient Kingdoms./_

_

* * *

The reaction to the incident in the otherwise unimportant system was swift and brutal. In retaliation for the destruction of the wing of gunships and the extermination of the colonists, the Cythera raided a Pilot outpost, killing off hundreds of Yautja and ten Old Ones as well as destroying several warships including three Old One attack cruisers._

_For a race that had never achieved numbers in the billions, this vengeance raid was the worst atrocity the Old Ones had ever faced._

_It had escalated from a small-scale vendetta to the greatest war the galaxy has yet seen._

_Lines were drawn. Battles were fought. Each race had its own advantages: the Old Ones had both superior technology and their numerous Yautja slaves. The Cythera made good use of the few advantages they had over the Old Ones; teleporters, long range weaponry, and their omnipresent war-armour._

_Years passed, and the war raged on._

_Decades went by, and still the two races fought._

_Centuries went by without a resolution._

_Then there was a change._

_Nearly two thousand years after the first attack, the Cythera found a crack in the Old One defences._

_Two thousand years of almost constant war had taught the insectoid aliens how to wield the metaphorical hammer and chisel._

_With one devastating attack, the Cythera poured their entire military at this one, lightly defended planet. Even as reinforcements flooded in to plug the leak, the planet fell to the tan-coloured onslaught._

_The entire war became centred around this one planet, the planet conveniently located on a hyperspacial crossroads that gave the Cythera access to the innards of the Ancient Kingdoms._

_Slowly, the devastating raids launched by the Cythera on the Old Ones began to tell. Defences began to crack, and the floodwaters poured in._

_The Old Ones made ready to make their final stand on their main military base. Losing it would leave both their homeworld and the Yautja world open to attack._

_The end of the Ancient War was coming..._


End file.
